


Summer Discoveries (an Interlude)

by Ailelie



Series: The Unspeakables [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Family Secrets, Friendship, Gen, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailelie/pseuds/Ailelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer 1984. While Darcy Lewis prepares for her first year at Hogwarts, Bruce confesses his secret to Tony and Jane and Natasha starts to suspect that her parents are hiding something from her. In addition, Steve goes on holiday, Pepper chats with Lucius Malfoy, and Clint waits in his tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Discoveries (an Interlude)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to spoke for the beta read and cinaed for reading over 'A Secret' for me. Thanks to both for letting me talk some things out while writing as well. Also, as this is an interlude, the title is not from a comic book.
> 
> The paper Tony quotes is J. J. Hopfield's 1982 paper, "Neural networks and physical systems with emergent collective computational abilities." (Thank you, dre, for double-checking my Tony dialogue about that!)
> 
> You can read the paper here: http://www.pnas.org/content/79/8/2554.full.pdf
> 
> If you are interested in being a beta, my GMail address is 'tisforlily.'

#  **A Secret**

Bruce eyed the growing moon through the curtain gap nervously. He'd been living with Tony for about two weeks so far and had yet to share the greatest of his secrets with his generous friend—a secret he could not much longer _not_ share. Though Bruce's friends were well accustomed to his frequent illnesses through the school year, he did not think he could use the same ruse when under one of their roofs. He'd already written to Remus on the matter and had received, in turn, an offer to spend the moon with him. Still, he needed some reason to give Tony. The truth would be best, especially considering the other full moon awaiting him in August.

He sighed and reluctantly left his room and walked down the hall to Tony's. Despite the late hour, he knew Tony was unlikely to be asleep. Sure enough, Tony was wide awake and sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by many sheets of marked up papers.

Bruce hovered by the door, uncertain how to begin. When Tony looked up at him, he coughed and asked, "What are you reading?"

"Just catching up on things I've missed." He held up one paper. "This paper is _two years old_ and this is the first I've seen it. I don't know how I missed it last summer. Listen to this, ' _Our model obtains its emergent computational properties from simple properties of many cells rather than circuitry._ ' Then later, he says, ' _The algorithm categorizes initial states according to the similarity of memory states.'_ One part can direct the formation of the whole—theoretically, the machine could learn. You don't have to encode everything at the outset. Still have to enforce how the learning occurs though, but—"

"You realize I have no idea what you're talking about," Bruce said. He crossed the room and picked up one stack of papers.

"Machine learning. Expert systems _. Artificial intelligence_ ," Tony said. "A machine that can think and learn. This guy and—" he reached over to another small collection of papers and waved it at Bruce "—this guy have the right of it, I think. Neurons that can recognize a pattern from a part and organize themselves. It's a start, at least." He blinked, as if just realizing that Bruce was standing at the foot of his bed. "Did you need something?"

"I have something I need to tell you." Bruce stopped, his mouth suddenly dry. "Can we meet with Jane first? This week. It has to be this week. Sooner is better."

The excitement in Tony's face cooled into concern. "Is everything—"

"Yeah." He forced a smile. "It's fine. I just have to go away soon—just for a couple days," he said in a rush, forestalling Tony's questions. "I should explain why."

"We can call Jane in the morning."

"Okay. Good." Bruce sat the papers he'd picked up back on Tony's bed and awkwardly left the room. Once in the hallway, he stopped against one wall. He had no idea what he was going to say.

Meeting with Jane actually took two days to arrange. Bruce supposed he should have spent the time preparing what he was going to say, but the time to think really did not help his nerves. While he waited, he watched _Star Wars_ with Tony and argued with him over which was a better portrayal of life in the distant future: _Star Wars_ or _Star Trek_. At night he finally finished reading _A Swiftly Tilting Planet_ , which Jane had lent him on the Express earlier that summer. He wrote her a long, rambling letter about the book, going far more in-depth than he ever had before. He finished late in the second day and dropped it downstairs to be mailed as he and Tony left to meet Jane for dinner.

The Ivy was a _lot_ more upscale than Bruce was used to. Jane was waiting for them on the corner and was looking as uncomfortable in her neatly pressed dress and tights as Bruce felt in Tony's borrowed clothes. Her parents waited with her and made polite conversation with Tony's—Bruce wasn't sure what to call the man. He knew he wasn't Tony's father, but he was around far more often. Bruce caught Jane's eye while Tony led them all inside. Tony was _never_ making the arrangements for them again. Inside, Tony had arranged for two tables, Bruce saw gratefully. Jane's parents and Tony's man sat together at one table. Then, well out of earshot, though not out of sight, Tony, Bruce, and Jane sat together.

Tony didn't even last until the first course. "What is going _on_ , Banner?" he asked.

Bruce looked at the set menu, thought mournfully of the meal he'd probably not get to eat, and sighed. "I'm a werewolf," he said.

Jane leaned in. "Bruce, we can't hear a word you just said."

"I'm a _werewolf,_ " he said again, this time with more force and volume. Jane blanched, snapping back in her seat. Tony looked intrigued, as if he were reading one his science papers. Bruce looked down and fought the urge to cry. Crying was too easy these days. "I can just go—"

"Bruce!" Jane interrupted, her face pale. "The full moon is _next week!_ What are you going to do?"

Bruce looked up, torn between confusion and laughter—trust Jane to have the lunar calendar memorized. "You're not afraid?"

"You're my second best friend," Jane said, her tone adding a comforting ' _why would I ever be afraid of you?'_ to her words.

"The elusive Darcy still beats me out for the top place?" Bruce asked, smiling at the old joke.

Jane shrugged. "We grew up together."

"We go to Hogwarts together," Bruce countered. For a moment he was able to forget why they were at the restaurant.

"What did you do at Hogwarts?" Tony asked. "You had to spend all your illnesses somewhere."

Jane pressed her finger tips to her forehead, her eyes squeezing shut in chagrin. " _That's_ why they bothered me so much. I knew there was a pattern."

"I had a room," Bruce answered Tony. "Beneath the Tower."

"What did you do at home?" Jane asked, her voice soft.

"Basement. All that mattered was that I couldn't get out." A damp basement with concrete walls, a broken washing machine, and nothing to gnaw on but himself.

"So all you need is a room?" Tony asked. "I think we can do one better than that."

Bruce shook his head. "I have a place to go. I've written someone and he's already helped me with that. Besides, he's magic—"

"Magic," Tony repeated, disgusted. "The world does not run on magic. I bet, if you gave me time, I could—Jane, when's the next full moon?"

"Early August," Jane said, at the same time Bruce answered, "August 11th."

When Jane and Tony both gave him a look, he pointed at himself. "Were. Wolf," he said slowly. "Knowing the moon's phases is basically required."

Now it was Jane's turn to look speculative. "Do you have the calendar memorized, or can you feel the moon's changes?"

"Interrogate later," Tony said. "I want to more about wherever you're running off to next week."

Bruce smiled while Tony and Jane bickered over which questions were more important. The coiled tension within him eased. "You guys are my best friends," he burst out without meaning to. He could feel the blush warming his cheeks as Jane and Tony both looked at him. He felt like an idiot.

"Well, of course," Tony said.

"You're my second and third best friends, too," Jane said.

"Hey," Tony protested, "You can't even let us tie at second?"

Jane shrugged. "Bruce is in Ravenclaw with me.  I've known him longer."

The argument of how best to rank friendships lasted well into their second course. Bruce forgot the ritzy surroundings, the borrowed clothes, and even the secret he'd just disclosed. He was with his friends and he had a point to win.

##  **Meanwhile--One**

Steve tagged along on the Barnes Family summer holiday just as he'd done since he'd been in diapers. The trip was, surprisingly, his first visit to the Isle of Wight. Bucky thought Carisbrooke Castle was impressive; Steve wished he could tell him about Hogwarts. Instead he drew pictures and pretended he'd dreamed it all up.

#  **A Lie**

Natasha stared at one of the photographs of her second birthday. In the picture, her mother smiled while Natasha clapped her hands and jumped. In the background were her table of presents and wood paneling of the den. The room was one of Natasha's favorites, for all her mother hated it.

Something about the photo was bothering her.

Then Natasha realized that her mother's shadow was in the wrong place. The difference was minor, but she had become better at noticing light and its effects since a few impassioned speeches from Steve. The longer she examined the photo, the more certain she was—her mother's figure had been coaxed into the frame and possibly spelled to remain there. Natasha turned to another page in the album. The light on her arms looked warmer than that on her father's.

Natasha threw the album aside, ignoring it as it bounced off the bed and fell to the floor. She was letting Steve's lectures contaminate her mind, making her see things. She was only seeing things.

That night her father remarked on how quiet she was being as they ate. Natasha smiled falsely. "Just thinking, Papa," she said, using her childhood name for him.

He returned the smile. "About what, poppet?"

"Just school," she replied, returning to her peas.

This is what she knew. Her parents, always a bit distant, but always interested in her dreams and ideas. So many people at school thought her family was wicked, but they never saw them like this—quietly eating dinner together and talking. They never saw when her mother taught her to first ride a broom, or when her father helped her make simple healing salves in his lab.

_Why had they altered the photographs?_

Natasha opened her mouth to ask them, but at the last moment instead asked, "Would it be possible for a friend to visit me?"

" _Which_ friend?" her mother asked. The sharpness jarred Natasha like the photos had.

"Virginia Potts," Natasha answered. "Pure blood, of course. Slytherin. I suspect she will be prefect when the time comes."

"Don't you want to be the prefect?" her father asked.

Natasha wrinkled her nose. "Too much work. Besides, Pe—Virginia is my friend."

Her father chuckled. "Such a sly daughter we have."

"Send her an owl tomorrow afternoon," her mother said. "If her parents are amenable, she may visit."

"Thank you." Natasha once again returned to her meal. Her parents were as Slytherin as she; if they were hiding something from her, they would not tell her over dinner. She needed cunning.

An idea finally came to her a few hours later as she finished brushing her teeth before bed. The wide bowl of the sink reminded her of her parents' pensieve. She'd only seen it once after her grandfather had died. Everyone in the family had shared memories, collecting their favorites to use for his portrait. They'd told her they used the pensieve to save their favorite memories, just as most people relied entirely on photographs and diary entries.

She needed to see her parents' pensieve. If her questions had answers, they might just be there.

##  **Meanwhile--Two**

Pepper glanced side to side, ensuring no one else at Fortescue's was watching, and then made another face at the little kid two tables over. He giggled, but then slapped a hand over his mouth and straightened his features into a parody of sobriety. The streak of chocolate ice cream across his cheek undermined his solemnity.

"You entertain him," a cool, male voice said from behind her.

Pepper jumped and turned to face whoever had caught her. The man was tall, aristocratic, and icy blond like the little boy. Pepper recognized him immediately from her aunt's stories about him. He was powerful, but not well liked. "You must be his father."

"I am. You are?" Mr. Malfoy raised one brow in expectation.

"Virginia Potts, sir."

"Any relation to Cornelia Potts?"

"She is my aunt," Pepper confirmed. Then, in a bid to turn the questioning away from herself, she asked, "And, sir, you are?"

"Lucius Malfoy," he answered with an amused smile that let Pepper know he was not fooled. "I work with your aunt. Preparing for Hogwarts?" Lucius indicated the potions text she'd been reading before the child had distracted her.

"Yes, sir. Professor Snape prefers us fully prepared before our first class each year." She did not add how she had become accustomed to reading several chapters ahead in Potions just to keep up with Tony's capacity for disaster.

"Ravenclaw?" he asked leaning on his cane. The slight movement had the effect of seeming to tower over her.

"Slytherin, sir."

Lucius gave her a cold, thin smile. "Good to see the old house maintains its standards. Have a good afternoon, Miss Potts—and, please, tell your aunt I said 'hello.'"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Have a good day." Pepper watched him quietly chastise his son for the mess, while still gently cleaning the ice cream from his hands and face. Feeling as if an intruder, Pepper returned to her potions text and tried to anticipate the sorts of questions with which Professor Snape would open the year.

#  **A Wand**

"Are all your customers this tough?" Darcy asked, giving the fifth wand she'd tried back to Ollivander.

The creepster blinked at her owlishly and said in a mysterious tone of voice, "Like calls to like, Miss Lewis. Try this one. Twelve inches, Aspen and dragon heartstring."

Darcy took the wand. The wood twisted in her hands and she dropped it hastily. "Another dud, I think," she said, stepping back so that Ollivander could collect the fallen wand. Behind her, she could hear the woman waiting in one of the painful-looking chairs by the front door to the shop explain to the little red-headed boy on her lap why Darcy had dropped her wand. A boy who looked about Darcy's age sat next to his mum and was flipping through a comic book. They'd arrived for their appointment ten minutes ago.

"Indeed. Perhaps a Maple wand would be more amenable. Or maybe a Willow, yes, try this." He slid a slim box out of the jumbled shelf behind the counter and took out the wand inside. Darcy took the wand. She felt a bit of warmth, but when she waved the wand around, nothing happened.

"Curious. Another then." She set the wand back in its box and Ollivander returned to considering the many boxes. Darcy swallowed hard, fearing that the bit of warmth she'd just felt was it. Maybe the Hogwarts letter was wrong. Maybe she was like her parents and just didn't have enough magic to do anything.

Darcy breathed in shakily and wished she'd taken up Jane on her offer to go in the wand shop with her. "You still do custom orders?" Darcy asked. "I've got this tree I like to climb. Maybe I could bring you a branch of that?"

Ollivander chuckled at her weak joke. "A good sense of humor. I think I have the wand for you. One moment." He disappeared through a small door to the left of the shelf where he'd pulled the willow wand.

Darcy turned to the people waiting. "Sorry this is taking so long," Darcy said. She added, shrugging, "What can I say, I'm a quirky girl. My name is Darcy Lewis. You starting this year, too?" She looked at the older of the two boys.

"Yeah, I'm Charlie. Charlie Weasley. This is my mum and my youngest brother, Ron."

Ron, upon hearing his name, struggled off his mother's lap and marched over to Darcy. "I saw the doctor today," he announced.

"You did?" Darcy asked, crouching down so she was eye-level to the boy. "What did he say?"

"I'm all good. He gave me a stinky potion and I drank it all without crying or spitting up even a little bit!"

Darcy clapped. "You're a very big boy then," she said.

"Ron," Charlie's mum called. "Stop bothering the young girl. Sorry, dear."

Darcy stood back up. "I don't mind. I've got cousins around his age. So Charlie, what House do you think you'll be in?"

Charlie laughed. "As if a Weasley was ever anything but Gryffindor." Then he twirled one finger and said, "Behind you."

Darcy spun around. Ollivander waited with another box. "Sorry."

Ollivander raised a bushy white eyebrow, but only said, "Eleven and a half inches, Spruce and unicorn hair. A 'quirky' pairing for a rather tricky wood."

Darcy lifted the wand from the box. Immediately she started to smile. "Now this is more like it," she said, bringing the wand down in a broad slash. Nothing happened. Stricken, Darcy started to hand the wand back to Ollivander, but then she heard Ron excitedly ask his mother where the cake was. She paused and sniffed thoughtfully. The store smelled like a bakery.

"So this is my wand, then," Darcy said, wanting confirmation. She pulled the wand toward her protectively, still marveling how _right_ it felt in her grasp.

Ollivander smiled, which did nothing to alleviate his overall air of creepiness, and said, "Yes, Miss Lewis. I would say that this wand has indeed chosen you."

##  **Meanwhile--Three**

Clint escaped to the tree on the edge of his and Natasha's properties at least once a week. He set up targets at various distances away from the tree and shot at them from high among the branches. Without distractions, he learned to compensate for the height and the swaying of the tree. By the end of August he was hitting two of the six targets consistently in their centers, and one nearly so. Natasha never came to their wall.

**Author's Note:**

> PS: the musical reference in 'Let Sleeping Dragons Lie' was to The Addams Family, the Musical.


End file.
